Ang 3.0

Thirty, flirty and thriving my ass. Thirty, flirty and crying is more like it.

About six months ago I turned the big 3-0 and, I have to say, I think I held myself together pretty well … initially. I celebrated the big day properly by consuming one—or five—too many margaritas; there was an interesting moment with a gentleman dressed as pirate (not a stripper, I swear); and I definitely indulged in some terrible karaoke. You know, the usual.

In my state of enthusiasm and I-don’t-give-a-hoot-ness, I created an ambitious list of 30 personal goals I wanted to accomplish in my 30th year. In the moment, I was super pumped about what this new decade would bring .

Well, about two months in, the novelty of 30 started to wear off and the concept of aging really hit home. I spotted not one, but several gray hairs that literally came out of nowhere. I found a few rouge lines on my face that I’m certain were not there on my last day as a 20-year-old. I found myself waking up in a panic, frantically skimming through Facebook, comparing my current face to the one from my 20s. Then, I did the worst thing a woman could ever do to herself: I let my mind go to the things that I should’ve accomplished as a 30-year-old but hadn’t. I stacked myself against the 20- and 30-somethings in my life who had their sh** way more together than me. You know those individuals with robust savings accounts, fancy apartments with beachside views and mature romantic relationships that don’t include emotional drunk dialing at two in the morning. That’s right, I went down that black hole. Yikes.

Lucky for me, I have a fantastic set of girlfriends who talked me off the ledge and helped bring the pity train to a stop. I realized no matter how much of a tantrum I threw, 30 was here to stay, so I might as well deal. And, yes, 30 brings with it some changes and maybe a few gray hairs. But it also brings with it a little thing I like to call hope. And instead of eating my feelings and drowning my sorrows in alcoholic beverages, I decided to dust off that little list I made months prior, appropriately titled “Ang’s 30 in 30.”

For the sake of context, I’ve included it below. Don’t judge me—there was wine and external influences involved in the making of this list (you know who you are).

Visit Ireland/Scotland

Cook more

Go to Museums

Run a half-marathon

Be nicer to myself

Read 30 Books

Read the entire Bible

Learn to play piano

Go to Nashville, Charleston or New York

Attend an event where you have to wear a ball gown

Say “I love you” to somebody in your life every day

Go to Big Sur

Confess a crush

Learn to sew

Attend a Broadway musical

Attend a music festival

Cook dinner for a guy

Dance in the rain

Host a dinner party

Make a mosaic table

Start journaling again

Buy a pair of Sophia Webster shoes

Go to Vegas with girlfriends

Go wine tasting in Napa

Ride a hot air balloon

Date someone longer than 2 months

Watch 30 classic movies

Say something nice to someone every day

Spend more time with your family (immediate)

Meet my husband

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to check a few things off this bad boy. And don’t worry, I’m gonna tell you all about it.